


Between Us

by rekishi



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Nightmares, Telepathy, partially post-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While shielding himself and shutting down were simple mental exercises, he so far had been unsuccessful to achieve that much with Erik Lehnsherr. Whether this was due to sheer unwillingness on his part, or because his panicked invasion of Erik's mind that night in the ocean in order to rescue the man had left something behind neither of them could shake, Charles couldn't tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get a handle on Charles as a character, therefore short.

Charles Xavier didn't have to concentrate to read the minds of other people. A human's mind was hardly ever silent, thoughts skittered through the higher cortex continuously, whether the person in question knew it or not. Raven had learned to shield from him, but they'd been children, acquiring new skills easily and learning, growing up alongside each other. Yet he still could read her, to some extent. He tried not to, he never tried to do it at all unless given explicit permission, but they both knew his talent didn't have an off switch.

Charles Xavier could concentrate and shut down the random prattle, though. While the stream of consciousness, whether volatile or not, was soothing and let him know he wasn't alone in the world - in a building, in a room - sometimes it was convenient to be alone in his head. Just like everyone else. A government facility with guards patrolling the corridors of every wing - who had guns and assault rifles and who thought thoughts far removed from the mundane - was such a time and place. A facility like that didn't have a lot of other sleepers beside him, not a lot of sleepy last conscious thoughts before unconscious took them or the wild ludacracies that were dreams.

Shielding and shutting down were simple mental exercises for Charles, perfected a long time ago in the same way the focus and concentration to harness his talent had been. He knew he had the ability to destroy a mind, if he so chose, or if he wasn't careful. That had happened before, an accident at school; too much alcohol, too little care, an experiment gone awry. Charles had done his utmost to undo the damage and had largely succeeded but for the personality of his classmate. That had forever been changed, and he'd never had the courage to find out whether for better or for worse.

He only brushed over that particular memory now as he lay awake now in his government issue bed that was only little more than a cot, waiting. It didn't hurt. He'd accepted the fact a long while ago. It had happened. He'd moved on.

While shielding himself and shutting down were simple mental exercises, he so far had been unsuccessful to achieve that much with Erik Lehnsherr. Whether this was due to sheer unwillingness on his part, or because his panicked invasion of Erik's mind that night in the ocean in order to rescue the man had left something behind neither of them could shake, Charles couldn't tell.

He'd seen more of Erik than he should have. He knew, his friend had been willing to sacrifice himself if only that meant taking Shaw – or Schmidt – with him and Charles admired that determination in the same degree as he was a little scared by it.

Erik had thought himself alone on more levels than just the one. A lone wolf prowling the world for prey. Charles knew what his friend had done, and he wasn't sure that he could condemn him for it at this point. Because Erik had been alone; alone with his power, the only one of his family left alive, abused by a fascist regime, used to be experimented on, and those responsible for all that pain and suffering – his own as well as that of so many other people – had fled, gone free, re-invented themselves. Erik's wasn't a route Charles would have taken, but he could relate to it intellectually at the very least.

 _"I thought I was alone."_ That wondrous statement right there in the water, when Charles had already pulled back, but couldn't quite let go yet, when he'd let Erik know what he could do, showed him evidence make undone is firm belief, showed him all the minds he'd brushed of mutants who knew they were different but he hadn't approached, because what could he say? But it was enough to let Erik know he wasn't alone in the world.

They had been exhausted, all of them, yet sleep was hard to come by that night. Charles had sat up with Erik long after Raven and Moira had made their way to bed, the coast guard boat cruising to disguise their trail. Charles made it a point to talk with his voice, told Erik about his theories, about what he knew, who he'd met, what he'd found out and how the CIA was involved in all of that. Erik in turn told him about Klaus Schmidt, but only in general terms, not mentioning himself in any tales of the past. But Charles knew. He just didn't know if he could let Erik know that he did. He'd heard about what had happened at the camps. It had just never been quite Erik's story.

Erik, obviously, was uncomfortable falling asleep in the presence of others. He truly was a lone wolf, always wary, always on edge, ready for fight or flight at the slightest disturbance. Trust, Charles knew, would be hard to come by with this man, yet Erik _had_ already opened up to him, more than to anyone else in a long while. Because Charles was living proof that Erik wasn't truly alone.

But there was another reason for Erik's reluctance to go to sleep with others around, although Charles only found out that much after exhaustion had gotten the better of his new friend at last. Erik Lehnsherr was a haunted man. Haunted by a past that came back in dreams he couldn't wake himself from, the feeling of helplessness, a panic that wouldn't yield its grip. And Charles was still connected to Erik, on some level that he didn't have conscious influence on, felt his own chest and throat constricting from the panic and had no choice but to go and wake him up.

He didn't tell the exact truth. Instead he said Erik had been tossing and turning and since they shared the cabin that had originally been Charles' on this trip. That seemed like an acceptable alternative explanation.

The dream didn't return that night. Or the night after. It was an infrequent thing, and probably all the worse for it.

And Erik, more and more, turned out to be something outside the scope of Charles' experience. It usually was easy to feel his way through to someone by probing their mind, but for some reason he was reluctant to do that with Erik after his first violent invasion. His reward, so to speak, was a sort of careful opening up, something Erik had never had the luxury to do thus far. He stayed close to Charles most of the time and often allowed their conversations to be silent and in nuances of thought that conveyed meaning better than the spoken voice.

The CIA base with its patrolling, armed guards reminded him of the camps, something he didn't say outright, but it was something that seemed to simmer just below the surface of his every thought. The two of them doing the recruiting was the right call. And it got Erik away from the base, which was additional benefit.

This was their last night at the base for a while, and the dream was back. They weren't sleeping in the same quarters here, something Charles didn't know if he regretted for various reasons, but the connection was still there. Charles didn't share the panic and the helplessness anymore, he was able to compartmentalize between his own and Erik's mind, but he knew what the dream did to his friend.

He didn't have the heart to wake Erik up with a thought, because Erik would be alone with a head full of devastating memories and Charles didn't want Erik to be alone ever again. Instead he brought his friend out of REM sleep and as close to wakefulness as could without actually waking him up for real. The dream fell away to where it hid in Erik's subconsciousness, but the feeling of dread remained. Charles had enough experience in planting suggestions into the minds of others that he could do it without a trace, but he didn't want to go that far with his friend.

He remembered the relief coming off Erik in waves when they'd broken through the water's surface - oh so little a while ago, how grateful he had been to finally have found someone else who was at least a little like him and Charles remembered the smile that hadn't seemed to want to leave when they'd finally been brought aboard, drenched and dripping, but alive and no longer alone.

Charles harnessed those emotions, the warmth of them, and added his own emotions. If Raven was his sister, the Erik was his missing half. Charles stripped all the unnecessary bells and whistles from the knowledge, packed pure emotion and sent that to Erik; warmth, joy, relief from all pain. And Erik, a couple of rooms down the hall patrolled by armed guards, quieted down, fell back into the deeper plains of sleep on his own.

And Charles retracted his own mind, ever careful not to leave any trace behind, yet he could still feel Erik with him. When sleep finally found him, too, he dreamt of sleeping with his head pillowed on Erik's shoulder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Home.

"You were never fooling anyone, you know," Erik said years later in a matter of fact voice that Charles couldn't place. Saigon had fallen mere days ago, and at what kind of cost, soldiers were returning home and the two of them were all alone in Central Park. It wasn't hard to discourage people from entering the premise. No harder than to mentally canvas the area for other mutants, but there were none.

Charles craned his neck back to look at the other man and raise an eyebrow in question. It was a truce of sorts, won for no reason whatsoever; Erik wasn't wearing the helmet and Charles let him push the wheelchair. He didn't usually allow that. It made him feel as if he was giving up even more of his independence.

"The dreams," Erik explained and tipped his head and gave him a lopsided smile. "Not even you can be so careful." He fell silent for a moment, reconsidered. "Or maybe especially you."

"Ah," Charles said, remembering but at a loss for what to say. "You know I would never take anything without permission. It was just-" A hand landed on his shoulder and he broke off.

"I know." Erik squeezed lightly, let his hand linger where it was. "And I thank you for it. How're the kids?"

Charles was looking ahead again and started chuckling. "Grown, Erik." There was a second generation of young mutants at Westchester now, children Erik had never met, children who thought Magneto was their professor's biggest adversary when they managed to snatch the fragment of a conversation. Heck, Alex thought that most of the time. "Raven?"

"She writes, doesn't she?"

"Not nearly often enough!"

Charles could _feel_ Erik smile, but his friend didn't say anything.

"Tell her-"

"She knows."

"Tell her anyway," Charles insisted. "And you-"

"I know that, Charles." They'd been having the same discussion - on and off - for ten years now, since the first time that Erik had reached out to him telepathically when Charles was hooked up to the rebuilt Cerebro. And he knew, Erik would not come back home, at least not for long, not for good. Even if his room still remained empty.

Erik's thumbs started massaging in slow circles the back of Charles' neck. He'd not intended to project that. But things with Erik had never been clear cut, or black and white. The feeling of a forehead resting against his - even though they were still walking - prompted him to close his eyes for a second. Erik's way of reminding him not to get the past mixed up with the present or future too much. They were both still here, after all.

"So is there any chance of this little … vacation of yours lasting for a couple more days?" Charles asked, only to receive a derisive snort as answer, which made him chuckle. Institutionalized life indeed wasn't for Erik, he liked to set his own hours too much, after all. His own rules. They almost reached the chess tables and something rattled behind Charles.

"Care for a game?" Erik asked and lightly shook a box undoubtedly containing chess pieces. Charles had to laugh. Past, present or future, some things might as well be set in stone for all of their susceptibility to change.


End file.
